


To pause (& ruminate)

by thatwhichweare



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: M/M, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwhichweare/pseuds/thatwhichweare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter takes a nap in Alistair's office during lunch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To pause (& ruminate)

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-ed by the lovely janesgravity.

There’s a knock on the door.

"Come in"

Peter literally drags himself in, the set of his shoulders weary. And it’s another one of those days.

Alistair retrieves a freshly laundered pillow and a knitted navy quilt from the depths of the bottom drawer of the oaken cupboard that stands against the eastern wall of his office. Wrapping Peter in the quilt, he places the pillow on the couch.

"Thank you," Peter murmurs, giving Alistair a quick kiss. He sheds his blazer and settles down to sleep, curling up under the sheet like a cat. His eyelids slip close.

Squatting down beside the couch, Alistair runs his fingers through Peter’s hair and Peter sighs in contentment. He tucks the blanket in. Gazing fondly at Peter’s prone form, he returns back to work.

Half an hour later, there is a soft knock at the door. His assistant has delivered lunch - hot soup and sandwiches.

"Thanks," he murmurs softly, standing at the entrance. She knows that Peter regularly comes to have lunch with him but doesn’t know about the why. She isn’t interested in that either. Alistair’s been a good boss.

Setting the food on the coffee table, he gently shakes Peter awake.

"Lunch? How lovely."

And they eat.

Peter can’t particularly remember when this started because it seems to have just _happened_. He always had this habit of taking power-naps during lunch instead of eating but when he began to take them in Alistair’s office still remains a mystery.

Perhaps it’s because Alistair’s office is the very definition of tranquil, unlike the hundred-mile-an -hour-type energy that the people working in his department possess.

Here, there is such a sense of having enough time to do things, even the less important activities of eating and sleeping. And there’s Alistair of course, who gives him lovely kisses and keeps a spare blanket and pillow in his office. It’s one of those things that makes the daily grind a little more bearable. Not that he hates eating, living and breathing politics but it’s incredibly draining. He’s eternally grateful that he’s been allowed _this_ , allowed _him_ as a respite. Though their time in office is ending, he’s got something, or rather someone, to remember it by.

He has a feeling in his bones that they will last. And because they fit together as snugly as two complementary pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, they do.


End file.
